How To Woo a Femme
by Sakrea
Summary: Smokescreen has learned the best method for getting a femme's attention, though it seems it doesn't always work. Smokescreen/Chromia, G1 Pre-War. Also includes a surprise sparkling.
1. Chapter 1

This is a series of fics I wrote for a trade.

They were not written as an entire fic, but requested in parts that I fit together over time.

The first two parts include a main storyline and the third is part of a backstory I was requested to give for one of the characters.

"Kind of a slow night, isn't it?"

Chromia smirked, setting an empty cube back on the shelf. "Disappointed in your catch tonight?"

"Just a little." Smokescreen said, returning the look. The cocky mech rested his chin on his hand, leaning into the table.

"So sad." Chromia replied, mock pouting.

"Care to make it better by treating me to a drink?"

The blue femme snorted and leaned toward him from the other side of the bar. "Fat chance." She snorted. "Remember our rule? No high-grade while the little spark is around."

Smokescreen pouted, reaching one hand out to catch said sparkling's hip plating with one finger, preventing him from toppling off of the counter's edge. "Not even one tiny shot?"

"Negatory."

"Killjoy." The mech huffed, dragging the sparkling back across the counter, turning the small form to face him. "You, little brother, are both a blessing and a curse."

Prowl tilted is head and cooed, his tiny doorwings fluttering on his back.

Chromia smiled and leaned across the counter, fingering one of the tiny appendages.

"Cute, isn't he?" Smokescreen asked, setting a small metal cube in the sparkling's hands.

Prowl made an excited chirping noise, fingering the small object. He turned it over in his hands, optics watching it intently. Then, as all sparkling's had to, he lifted it to his mouth and tasted it.

"Ridiculously cute." Chromia agreed. "I'm actually not surprised femmes flock to you because of him."

"He's only one small part of my charm." Smokescreen told her, grinning.

"If that's the case, he's the only _successful_ part."

Smokescreen pouted, his own doorwings drooping. "Oh yeah?"

"Remember, I've seen you in here, almost every weekday night, attempting to pick up a date. Your only successes are when your little brother is around to pull in the femmes." Chromia snorted, playing with the sparkling's twitching winglets.

Prowl though, was far too preoccupied to cuddle into the touch. He had discovered that the cube had moving parts and he was quite taken by this. His little fingers twisted pieces round, optics locked intently on the toy.

"And yet the one femme to capture my spark, the cold, sarcastic bartender by the name of Chromia, has yet to so much as give me the time of day, despite Prowl's near constant presence by my side." Smokescreen said dramatically, slapping a hand over his spark.

Chromia snorted, choking back a laugh as she straightened. "First of all, a big brother constantly bringing a sparkling to a cold, dark bar is hardly a turn on, no matter how cute the sparkling is." She told him, grinning.

"And second of all?" The mech asked, setting his palm back on the table. "I'm curious to hear why my tactics have failed."

There was a mischievous glint in Chromis's optics as she stepped back to attend to her work once more. "You haven't actually asked me out." She said absently, picking up a clean cube and polishing it.

Smokescreen's grin was predatory. "Oh, my apologies." He drawled. "I should fix that shouldn't, I?"

"Maybe." Chromia replied, feigning a distracted tone as she examined the cube for spots.

Smokescreen straightened up on his bar stool, his doorwings sweeping upward on his back. "Chromia?"

"Yes, dearest Smokescreen?" the femme sighed dramatically, looking over at him. She glided over to the counter, leaning on it with a flourish. She visibly forced down a smile, her lips twitching in a barely contained smirk.

"Would you kindly allow me to be your consort for a night so that I may sweep you off of your feet?" Smokescreen asked, picking up and clasping one of her hands between his.

Chromia cracked, her face breaking out in a grin. "I suppose so." She sighed. "Since you asked so nicely."

Underneath the two bots, Prowl made a triumphant sound and lifted the cube in his tiny hands. On each side of the toy, a different picture was visible where it had previously been a mixed up mess of lines.

"Again?" Smokescreen chuckled, looking down at the sparkling. "That's the fifth time you've solved it today."

Had the situation been ideal, Smokescreen would have been at Chromia's apartment in a building not far from his. He was supposed to have been there to pick her up right about then.

Instead, he was currently sprinting across his own quarters, jumping over various messes and dodging furniture in his mad search. Of course, he hadn't lost something simple like the tickets to the outdoor concert he was supposed to be headed to, or his body wax, or even a data pad. No, he'd lost his little brother.

"Prowl!" he shouted, not really expecting a response. He'd torn up the apartment three times over with no sign of him. There was no way he was there. "Frag it, kid! Where are you?"

Once more, he sprinted back across the decimated rooms. Again, no sign of him. He skidded to a halt near the door, letting out a low growl. "Chromia is going to tear me to pieces for this. You had better be in serious peril!" Despite his words, the thought of the little bundle of parts being in any sort of danger had his internals twisting painfully. He was all he had let in this world… If any harm came to him… What would he do?

Steeling himself against the sudden onslaught of morbid visions, Smokescreen wrenched his door open and tore down the halls.

"Hey Smokescreen, what's the rush?" A silver mech called as he rounded a corner.

Smokescreen couldn't remember his neighbor's name, but skidded to a halt in front of him. "Have you seen Prowl?"

The silver mech's optics flickered in surprise. "No I haven't, but—"

Smokescreen took off again before he could finish.

"There's someone looking for you in the lobby!" the mech called after him anyway.

The blue and red mech only half registered the words as he flung himself down the next hall, leaving his neighbor behind.

He circled the entire fifth floor in record time. Each mech or femme he passed, he frantically asked about Prowl's whereabouts, then nearly plowed through them as well. Nothing. No one knew anything.

By the time he turned the last corner toward his own quarters the building dread burning in his tanks had him nearly crying out in frustrated worry.

"Chromia!" Smokescreen half gasped as he sprinted toward his doorway.

The femme, standing with one hand propped on her side, had her hip jutted out to the side in her most obvious pose of displeasure.

Smokescreen ignored the knowledge that he was sure to get a glossa-lashing, and ran up to the femme, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around to face him.

"Listen, I'm really sorry I didn't come, but I've got a _**huge**_ problem!" he said frantically, his optics practically begging her not to yell at him just yet. "Have you seen Prowl?"

Surprisingly, a smug smirk stole across Chromia's face. "Your little explorer?" she asked, lifting one shoulder, jiggling the bundle in her arm.

Prowl giggled and bounced in the blue femme's arm, gripping a small yellow ball in one hand.

Smokescreen's optics flared and he snatched the sparkling from Chromia. "Where have you BEEN?" he practically sobbed, nearly crushing the sparkling to his chest. "I thought someone stole you or that maybe you had gotten stepped on!"

Prowl chittered happily against his brother's neck where he'd been effectively pinned.

"Primus I was so worried!" Smokescreen groaned. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again!"

"If it helps any, I'd love to have him come with us tonight." Chromia noted, looking rather amused by the display.

Smokescreen finally acknowledged the femme properly, optics staring at her in surprise. "We're still going?"

"Why not?" she asked, smirking at the restrained wiggle the sparkling gave against his brother's chest. "We're only a little late."

"You're not mad about that?" he asked. "Or that I lost Prowl?"

"Considering he was rolling around the lift with that ball of his, I can't really blame you for his escape. He seems to be a runner." Chromia replied, chuckling softly. "And no, I'm not mad."

"Well I… Thank you." He managed after a moment, puzzling over at her.

"Don't dwell on it." Chromia told him, turning to move down the hall. "Prowl _is the_ only reason we're going out tonight, remember?" she teased.

Smokescreen snorted and trotted after her, his charm returning. "Keep telling yourself that."

It wasn't until they'd arrived at the amphitheatre that Smokescreen realized he'd left the tickets.


	2. Chapter 2

"Aside from the fact that it was a cheap date, I had fun."

Smokescreen nudged the femme beside him in the side with his elbow. "I didn't take you there because it was I_cheap/I_; I took you because it was _fun_."

Chromia smirked and elbowed him back. "But the price was a plus?"

"Hey, hey, I'm a single guardian raising an adorable bitlit all by my lonesome," Smokescreen snorted. "Besides, who came up with the rule that mechs have to pay for femmes?"

"Who knows?" Chromia mused, nudging the back of her hand against her date's. "But it's convenient for me."

Smokescreen slipped his hand around the femme's, squeezing it gently. "Lucky you."

Chromia tipped her head back, smirking, but very obviously holding back a full grin. "Isn't it also a rule for the mech to walk the femme home?"

At that moment, the pair then stopped directly in front of Smokescreen's door. "I think my circumstances excuse me from that," he retorted, doorwings fanning out proudly behind him.

"Oh? Well, I think it's rude," Chromia sighed, feigning annoyance. Her fingers twined with Smokescreen's, drawing their coupled hands behind her as she drew her body toward the mech. "Maybe you should make it up to me."

Smokescreen broke out into a grin and leaned forward slightly. "Maybe I should," he mused, raising his other hand to gently tilt the femme's chin up.

The two leaned forward and Smokescreen's door opened.

"Oops. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Smokescreen jerked up and scowled at the red mech leaning casually in his doorway that was supporting a drowsy looking Prowl in one arm.

Chromia's response was to punch the red mech in the chest. "You're an aft, Ironhide," she groused.

"Well since I interrupted your kiss, I'd be happy to make it up to you with one of my own," Ironhide chuckled, not reacting to the punch. "Care to collect now?"

Smokescreen's doorwings hitched painfully high on his back at the friendly banter. "How about _not_?" he said, sweeping in between the two. He plucked Prowl away from the larger mech, surprising the lightly snoozing sparkling out of his recharge.

Prowl chirped tiredly, one tiny fist rubbing at his optic as he settled himself into Smokescreen's familiar hold.

"Awww… Come on Smokey, you can share, can't ya?" Ironhide cooed, crossing his arms across his wide chest. "After all, she was mine first."

Smokescreen practically bristled at his words. Ironhide was an old, trusted friend of Chromia's, which was why he'd allowed the mech to watch his brother, though it had taken some convincing. Unfortunately, it was painfully obvious that the red behemoth had long been interested in the blue femme.

"Enough. Both of you." Chromia snorted, tactfully placing a hand on each mech's chest and forcing them back with an unusual strength she seemed to possess.

"Awww… Come on Chromia. I'm just teasing," Ironhide said, trying to hide a grin behind a pout and failing.

Chromia smirked, but jabbed a finger down the hallway. "Out. Now," she said firmly, though her tone was amused.

The red mech slunk out of the apartment. "So quick to use me and lose me?"

Chromia shoved Smokescreen into the now vacated doorway before slipping inside after him. "Thanks for looking after Prowl, 'Hide. See ya later," she said before promptly shutting the door between them.

"Thank you," Smokescreen groaned immediately, his doorwings slumping back to a comfortable height. "Primus, he's an aft."

Chromia chuckled lightly and patted his shoulder. "It's part of his charm. I think."

Smokescreen groaned again and followed the femme as she moved into the living room. "Then what's part of my charm?"

Chromia grinned and turned around briefly, point a blue finger at the bundle in his arms. "Him."

"Right, right. You only want to date me to get to my brother." Smokescreen snorted, plopping down on the couch behind him.

"Correct," Chromia replied, dropping down beside him. "It has absolutely nothing to do with your wit and handsome face. Nothing at all."

Smokescreen nudged Chromia's leg with his knee. "Stop lying to yourself," he said, giving her a proud grin.

"Who says I'm lying?" Chromia asked innocently. "Could be that my optics are just glitching."

"Try taking a closer look then, you might change your mind," Smokescreen suggested, leaning toward her.

"You might be right," Chromia murmured softly, setting a hand against his shoulder as she leaned in as well. "The closer I get, the better you look."

"I'm okay with being hot at close range," Smokescreen rumbled an instant before their lips met.

The kiss was gentle, a soft press of the lips with an almost hesitant movement for the two. Both wanted to draw out the sweet sensation without going beyond the normal bounds of a first kiss.

"You're easier on all five senses at close range," Chromia breathed, drawing away only slightly.

"Have we hit on taste yet?" Smokescreen mused quietly, optics dim.

"Not enough," Chromia admitted, pulling their lips together again.

While equally sweet and gentle as before, there was a more privileged feel to the kiss. The movement was faster, almost demanding, but without an out of control feel to it.

Smokescreen's hand rose up, gripping onto Chromia's side, sliding their bodies closer. The feel of her plating, warm and smooth against his legs, only served to increase the sensation of the kiss. The hand on her side slid up slowly, softly running across small seams. The femme shivered under his hand, leaning just slightly into the touch. His fingers pressed in, starting to travel up and around towards—

"Smookescreem!"

Smokescreen jerked away so fast that there may have been an audible pop as their lips disconnected. "Prowl?" he asked, staring down at the previously slumbering sparkling.

"Smookescreem!" Prowl said again, reaching his tiny hands up.

"His first words?" Chromia asked, peering down at the small mech. She didn't look the least bit put off by the interruption. On the contrary, she looked delighted by it.

"Yeah," Smokescreen said, looking stunned. "His voice mimicking programs must have just activated."

Prowl tilted his head back to peer at the femme next to him. "Mia!"

Chromia grinned brightly and swept her hands down to tickle the little mech's sides. "Good, good," she cooed. "Chromia!"

Prowl thrashed and giggled under the onslaught of the tickle attack, his tiny doorwings flailing behind him.

"Primus, he already knows you too…" Smokescreen mumbled.

"He's a smart little spark," Chromia noted, optics twinkling as she paused her ministrations. The sparkling collapsed against her hands, vents panting even as he grinned widely. "Just like his brother I suppose."

Smokescreen gathered Prowl into his arms and hugged the exhausted bitlet to his chest. "Oh?"

"I suppose so," Chromia said, scooting over so their sides were pressed together.

"That may be the nicest compliment you've given me," Smokescreen noted.

"Well I need to toss you something everyone once in a while," Chromia mused, slipping an arm around the mech's shoulders.

"Have to keep me interested so you can get to my brother?"

"Exactly."


	3. The Lessons We Learn

This is the backstory for Smokescreen's parents.

Sadly, there is no Chromia in this. D:

It's also more based in the current G1 timeline.

"Prowl, I'm with sparkling."

The SIC's engine backfired, not garnering a reaction from either mech.

"Don't look so surprised, it was sure to happen eventually." Jazz snorted, grinning brightly.

Prowl just stared at him blankly.

"Oh, come on," Jazz sighed, drooping. He'd expected a far more ecstatic reaction from his bond mate, something that preferably ended with passionate embraces. Now though, he'd settle for an uncertain smile.

Finally, Prowl moved, a shift of the optics onto Jazz's chest plating. "You're sure?" he asked stiffly.

"Ratchet confirmed it yesterday," Jazz said, reaching out and taking Prowl's hand in his.

"When did this happen…?"

"Last week on your desk, I think," Jazz paused, optics flickering. "Or in the wash racks later that night."

Prowl's doorwings twitched low on his back as he seemed to sink back into that blank state.

Jazz let a brief scowl touch his face, pulling on Prowl's hand. "Prowler, I don't know yer issue with me getting sparked," he said, dragging the hand upwards and pressing it encouragingly to his chest plates. "But this is happening."

Prowl's optics lit abruptly, fingers curling against the white plating. "Jazz… I…" He vented softly, looking stunned. "I have no problem with…. our… sparkling…"

"Then what's wrong, Prowler? Talk to me…." Jazz said, his optics pleading. "Why do ya seem so upset about this?"

The Datsun's doorwings drooped further, his optics shifting to his lap. "I'm afraid." He admitted slowly.

Jazz moved closer, nestling himself against Prowl's side. "Of what?"

"I'm… Not sure how to be a proper creator…" Prowl murmured softly, turning worried optics down on him.

"Aw, don't be worried about that," Jazz replied, brightening slightly. "You'll be a fine daddy!"

Prowl shook off the odd human term, looking only more uncertain. "I don't know how…"

"Just do what your creators did!" Jazz said, grinning. "They seem to have done a fine job raising you!"

Prowl looked startled, optics widening surprise as his back straightened. "My creators?"

"Yeah! I mean even Smokescreen turned out alright, so they had to have done a good job!" Jazz teased.

"I… Jazz… I was raised by Smokescreen," Prowl said quietly, looking surprised.

The smile on Jazz's face fell abruptly. "Oh…" he murmured, raising one hand to softly touch the side of the other's face. "Prowl… I'm sorry… I had no idea…"

The SIC leaned his cheek into the touch, optics taking on a faraway look. "I never knew them…"

"What happened…?" Jazz asked slowly, stroking the soft plating.

Prowl trapped the hand to his cheek with one of his own, offlining his optics. "I-I don't know… I never asked Smokescreen…." he said slowly. "I never thought much about it."

Jazz tilted his mate's helm down, pressing a kiss to his chevron. "Do ya want to know?"

Prowl reached around the smaller white frame, pulling him close. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

A soft hum came from Jazz's chest as he happily molded himself to Prowl's side. "Go," he said softly. "Talk to him about it and come back when ya get yer answers."

Prowl nodded slowly. "Just… Give me a moment." He sighed, releasing the hand on his cheek. He bent his head over, nuzzling his mate's helm and turning to pull their chests flush together. Slowly, he became aware of the gentle energy radiating off of the other's chest.

He could feel his newspark.

"Tell me about our creators."

After a long, awkward silence, waiting for his brother to explain his odd mood, Smokescreen jumped at the words. "Our creators?"

Prowl looked firm. "I need to know what happened to them."

Smokescreen stared at him for a long time. His little brother had never asked about their creators before. He could only guess at his sudden curiosity. "You're sure you want to know?"

"Yes. Even if they abandoned us, I want to know," Prowl told him.

Smokescreen gave him a small smile, getting up from the berth. "Don't worry, they didn't abandon us," he said, his voice gentle.

Prowl's optics tracked him across the room as Smokescreen opened a drawer in his desk and withdrew a worn looking data pad. He flicked it on and approached his brother again.

"This is the closest thing we have to a family picture," Smokescreen explained, setting the data pad in his brother's hands.

On the screen, three bots stood happily. On the left, a tall thin flier was grinning at the camera, his red and white plating practically glowing in his joy. He had one arm wrapped protectively around a pretty yellow-and-black femme. Likewise, she was smiling brightly, one delicate hand resting over her spark. Between the two stood a rather young looking Smokescreen, his face beaming.

"Our carrier sparked you just a few orbital cycles before this picture was taken," Smokescreen said gently, pointing at the female grounder.

"What happened?" Prowl whispered. He looked stunned by the simple image. However he may have previously imagined his creators before, it was now washed away by the sight of the picture.

Smokescreen sat down heavily on his berth, next to Prowl. "Towards the end of your carrying, there was an accident."

Prowl stiffened. Of course he'd been expecting something like this, but somehow, just hearing that stung.

"Skypulse, our sire, was a scientist," Smokescreen began, pointing at the flier in the image. "He was working on a revolutionary experiment; something he always claimed would change the world when it was complete." A pause and a weary sigh. "Instead, it killed him."

_i "Skypulse, I think you should come see this…" _

_The flier turns, glancing up from his data pad immediately. Normally, he would be hard pressed to abandon the important spreadsheet of numbers, but the uncertain tone in his colleagues' voice catches his attention. "Yes, Atomblast?"_

"_No, I mean come here," the green scientist says, his voice holding an unusual touch of worry. "I think there's something wrong."_

_Skypulse stood up, abandoning his work for the time being. "I suggest using caution with those words. You are currently attending to a sensitive and expensive experiment," he noted, almost teasing._

_Atomblast gave him a look that held no amusement. "I wouldn't say it unless I was sure."_

_The short wings on Skypulse's back twitched at his words, his pace increasing as he crossed the room and took up a spot next to his partner. "What is it?"_

"_It…. It appears to be destabilizing."_

_The winged scientist stiffened. "Show me the readings."_

_Atomblast tapped on the monitor beneath the experiment. "See right here," he said, pointing to the screen when a set of numbers and moving diagrams appeared._

"_That's…. It has to be a glitch." Skypulse sighed, shaking his head. "According to this, the containment chamber is functioning fine, yet there is a fluctuation in the isotopes. Impossible," he said firmly._

_Atomblast didn't look convinced. "What if it's something else?"_

"_Well… There are protocols to follow," Skypulse noted, gracing him with a teasing smile. "Evacuate the area, I'll stay here and fix this."_

_The green grounder twittered his fingers in front of him. "You sure that's okay? I mean… I could stay here and try to stabilize it…"_

_Skypulse set a hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing to stabilize," he reminded him. "But one of us must make sure to clear the building in case something does happen. That's you. Go."_

_Atomblast gave him a small smile. "Okay," he said. "Comm me when the coast is clear."_

_Skypulse gave him a little wave as he quickly moved from the room, making an emergency comm to clear the base._

"_Now… About these unstable isotopes…" he murmured, flexing his fingers as he set to work._

_The monitor he attended to was set into the base of a tall tube that stretched from floor to ceiling in the lab. The churning blue liquid within was his life's work. _

_ Normally, the glowing blue liquid was calm, harmless despite its hazardous properties. In turn, the monitor stayed quiet, never flaring out in warnings. Until now._

"_Impossible," Skypulse murmured, optics narrowing at a flashing red light on the control monitor. "A cooling system overload?"_

_The red-and-white scientist may have further doubted what he considered to be a faulty monitor, had a high-pitched keening not erupted from the panel._

"_No…. No no no no no no…!" Skypulse cursed, the severity of the situation suddenly catching up with him._

_This experiment, a desperate attempt to create a highly concentrated form of energon, normally had a low danger level. Contained correctly in this state, it was harmless. But somehow, something had changed at a molecular level. It was unstable now, something that had very likely forced the cooling systems into overload, further dropping the chemical into a hazardous state. Depending on how far it had thus far progressed, it could explode at any moment._

_Skypulse hurriedly typed in the necessary calculations, his fingers flying across the keyboard. _

_b __**Catastrophic system meltdown is 10… 9 … 8…/b**_

_So soon… There was no warning. How did this happen…?_

_There was so much that needed to be said, so much that needed to be done, so many people he needed to say good bye too… There was no time./i_

"Atomblast?"_ iSkypulse commed, surprisingly calm despite the panic building within him./i_

"Skypulse? Is it all clear yet?"i_ the other scientist asked, so unaware of the danger. Thankfully, they'd escaped in time…/i_

"I need you to pass a message onto Stardaze for me."

_ib__**4…**__**3… 2…/b/i**_

"Prowl. I like that name, tell her that."

_bi__**1… 0./I/b**_

_**i**__The blue liquid flashed a burning white, the light blinding him as the lab exploded around him._ /i

"The explosion was so massive that the entire building was destroyed. Luckily, everyone else was already out of the building," Smokescreen said softly, not seeming at all comforted by this fact. "Skypulse was the only casualty."

Prowl felt a sharp sting slash across his spark. He'd never known his sire, but just looking at the image and listening to his story… It felt like he'd missed something. Not once in his life had he ever felt a loss at being raised by his only brother.

"Then what happened?" Prowl asked softly.

"Things changed fast," Smokescreen murmured. "Except for your creation, everything got worse."

"What do you mean?" Prowl asked slowly.

Smokescreen's optics bore into the picture, examining the femme there. "Stardaze was never the same- she never recovered."

"Stardaze?"

"Our carrier," Smokescreen explained. "Our creators were very much in love and after Skypulse's death, she was devastated."

"Did she….?" Prowl began, almost dreading the answer.

"No, she didn't kill herself," Smokescreen assured him, though his tone indicated that the truth wasn't much better.

"She was always very happy, no matter the situation, but she was also a dreamer," Smokescreen explained. "I remember times when Skypulse or I would be talking to her and she'd just stare past us in a daze. She'd always snap out of it quickly, tell us what she'd been thinking about, and we'd continue the conversation." As he spoke, a small smile had crept across his lips, but he quickly grew sober once more.

"After the accident, she just sat around and stared off into nothing. She hardly ever spoke and I had to convince her to take fuel constantly." Smokescreen's optics dimmed sadly, his head tipping down. "During her work and her dazes, I took care of you."

"Her work?" Prowl asked, slipping an arm around his brother's back. The story was… upsetting to him, but to his brother it seemed to have been a deeply troubled time.

"Stardaze was a Planet Guardian," Smokescreen replied, leaning into the hold. "Back then, it was a fancy name for engineers that took care of the inner layers of Cybertron. It was a well respected job because many considered the Guardians to hold a special bond with Primus."

"And did she?" Prowl asked, looking over at his brother.

Smokescreen shrugged. "She was never sure. Sometimes she claimed that the planet spoke to her indirectly, but she never said she was any more connected then the rest of us."

There was a short lull in conversation as Prowl seemed to absorb this and Smokescreen sank further into his memories.

"What happened to her?"

"No one's sure," Smokescreen murmured, reaching a hand out toward the data pad. One finger stroked absently across Stardaze's image. "She went into the tunnels and never came out."

i_Nothing, empty, hollow. It echoed across her processor, beating into her ceaselessly. It never stopped. It couldn't._

_Skypulse. Gone. Dead. Taken from her in a cruel twist of fate. He'd left her behind to rust within the shell of life._

_She wanted to follow him into oblivion, drift into the sweat caress of death if it meant being by his side once again._

_b __**No./b**_

_Stargaze forced her processor away from such thoughts. Despite this shallow existence, she couldn't die, not yet. Smokescreen, Prowl… The last remaining pieces of her bonded left in the universe._

_They needed her; she needed them. _

_The yellow femme, her bright colors faded from lack of care, bent down over a bundle of cables. One was sparking, the wiring opened up through the insulation. Yet another piece of the planet had shifted, causing internal damage to itself. This was the purpose of the Guardians._

"_Primus…" she murmured softly, hands working across the damaged wire. "You are the Creator of life, of all. Many believe you to be the Unmaker as well. Are you?"_

_There was no answer. Sometimes, the plating would shift beneath her or the support beams would groan, a sign of acknowledgment. This time, the slumbering god lay silent._

"_Are you responsible for my bonded's death?" she murmured to the wires. "Did you twist his fate to fit your needs?"_

_Her spark cried out in agony, begging and struggling to reach the other end of her severed bond. Yet she held no anger toward her god. She never did._

"_What are you plans for me?" she asked, voice soft, optics damp with coolant. "Will you take me as well? Or will you have me drift through this world?"_

_Stardaze peered down at the cabling beneath her skilled fingers. Already, it was repaired and she stood once more. She needed to continue her rounds through the tunnels._

"_Perhaps your plans lay in my sparklings…" she whispered. "Perhaps my purpose has long been served."_

_The planet gave no answer._

"_I beseech you…" she continued, her voice a low sob. "Tell me what is to happen…"_

_Slowly, a light flickered into existence at the end of the hallway. _

_Stardaze raised her optics onto the soft yellow glow, taking a step forward. There had been rumors among the Guardians about strange lights… They darted past your optics, flying across the tunnels before flickered out when someone got too close. Never had she seen one herself._

_Cautiously, she approached it. It flickered, but hovered in place._

"_Is this my sign?" Stardaze inquired, optics lifting to the light. "What does it mean?"_

_A soft rumble flowed from the glowing orb. b__**"Fear not my child, all will become clear."/b**_

_Stardaze dipped her head in respect. Primus himself had answered her prays. Somehow she was deemed worthy…_

_b __**"Your suffering has been unjust,"/b**__ the orb told her.__** b"Your requests will be granted."/b**_

"_But my sparklings…" she said quickly. She felt a stab of regret; she couldn't leave them behind, could she…? _

_b __**"They share you and your bonded's will. Despite your absence, they will prosper."/b**_

_Stardaze folded her hands in front of her and nodded. "I am yours to command then. Do with me what you will."_

_The orb hovered for a moment more before it drifted softly down one of the tunnels. _

_Stardaze followed it without a backwards glance./i_

"It wasn't an unusual thing. It actually happened fairly often," Smokescreen noted. "She may have just lost her way in the maze down there, but the Guardians didn't think so."

"What else could have happened?" Prowl asked.

"According to them, Primus accepted her into his very core to serve his needs there," Smokescreen shrugged, looking like he didn't believe it. "They're a pretty superstitious bunch."

Prowl looked up from the data pad and looked at his brother. A thin line of coolant trickled down from the corner of one optic.

To him, this knowledge merely inflicted empty pain. He wished he had been able to know them, but he couldn't, a fact that he accepted.

But Smokescreen had known them; he'd been raised by them. To him, the mere thought of their fate still burned his spark. The pain of their deaths had never fully healed.

Abruptly, Smokescreen swiped a hand across his cheek and straightened up, all previous depression wiped away. "There are happier stories about them of course," he assured his brother, his voice not possessing its normal level of emotion. "If you ever want to hear."

"Not just yet," Prowl replied, forcing himself back out of his down mood as well. "I need to be getting back to Jazz."

Smokescreen nodded and gave him a small, knowing smile. "Go, we'll talk later."

Prowl stood and patted his brother's shoulder before turning to leave. "Oh, I would like to ask you a favor," he said, pausing. "Could you send me that picture?"

"Sure thing." This time, Smokescreen's smile was genuine.

Had it been any other mech, they'd probably have been flying across the room on a collision course with the wall.

"Prowler, ya might wanna watch yerself," Jazz chuckled. "One day I might accidentally fling you into a wall."

Prowl only tightened his arms further around the Special Ops mech, holding him from behind.

"So, how'd it go?" Jazz asked, peering behind him at his silent mate.

The Datsun nuzzled his face into the Porsche's neck. "I learned all what happened to my creators," he murmured.

Jazz leaned into the hold, reaching back to cup the back of Prowl's neck. He drew him into a soft kiss. "And?"

Prowl shook his head briefly, but kissed him again. "I'll tell you later," he promised.

Jazz hummed into the kiss, his visor flickering softly. "Sounds good," he said absently. "But did you find out what you needed to know?"

There was a pause and Prowl raised his head slightly. "I believe so."

"Can you tell me that?" Jazz asked, lowering his arms so he could hold onto the arms circling his waist.

"I… am nervous about my abilities to be a sufficient creator," Prowl began softly, briefly leaning down to nuzzle one of Jazz's audio horns. "But I would rather be there and do a mediocre job than not at all."

Jazz snorted out a laugh and elbowed him in the chest. "You'll do a great job."

Prowl grunted at the impact and tightened his arms. "We'll see," he murmured.

Strangely, Jazz seemed to puff up at his words. "No arguments, you will be a bi_**great/i/b**_ daddy," he huffed.

Prowl's chest shook in contained laughter, a fond smile gracing his lips. "If you say so," he replied. He slide one hand up and rested it gently over his mate's spark chamber.

"Damn right I do."


End file.
